Back home where winter reigns, still

We arrived back in Ontario Saturday afternoon, after overnights north of Charlotte, North Carolina, and south of Toledo, Ohio.  This is what greeted us...

Actually, this is a photo taken in early January just before we left, but the scene was pretty much the same -- if anything there was even more snow!  (And more rabbit depredations -- it's not been an easy winter for them either.)

But a friend called yesterday just to say that she had seen some robins, and today the snow is melting.  And tomorrow -- the vernal equinox.

This will be the last post of the Deeeep South Sojourn blog.  Happy spring, everyone, and thanks for reading! 

What we like about the USA, part 2

Preparing to say goodbye to the USA and leave for our snowy homeland, we're reminded of some other things we'll miss about living south of the border, besides the warmer weather.  (There are things we won't, but that's another story.)

"To go" beverages

The "to go" drink is a Joey favourite.  His non-alcoholic beverage of choice is ice tea, a staple in the South (he takes it unsweetened).  At the end of a restaurant meal, a polite "can I have a to go?" results in a (usually large-size) styrofoam cup filled with ice tea being produced along with the bill.  For no extra charge of course.

Joey's collection of "to go" cups -- ??

"To go" drinks are not to be confused with "travellers," which we also like.  In many Southern states, travellers are large (duh) plastic cups containing the alcoholic beverage of your choice, which -- gasp! -- you can legally take out (of your house, a party or a bar) and drink walking down the street.  We haven't taken nearly enough advantage of this.  Our best travellers tale involved a long meander with cups of vodka and ice through the squares of Savannah to the waterfront on New Year's Eve 2010 to watch fireworks (which we couldn't see because of dense fog, but somehow it didn't matter!).


Green fountains

Still on the theme of liquids and what holds them: as March 17 approaches I can't resist this silly one.  First understand that St. Patrick's Day is to Savannah as Mardi Gras is to New Orleans, a huge celebration that goes back over a century.  We have never been in town for the big day itself, which draws enormous crowds (and obscene rents).  But we have experienced some of the foreplay, so to speak, and the best is "the Greening of the Fountain."  This involves the ceremonial adding of dye to the famous fountain in Forsyth Park.  But other fountains get greened up too.

Greening of the Fountain in Forsyth Park, Savannah 

The small fountain in Columbia Square has not been left out

Happy St. Patrick's Day!


Southern hospitality

It's hard to overstate this.  From Tony, the owner of Tony's ("all you can eat catfish") in Bay St. Louis, who came out to chat with us over lunch; to Charles Gray, backbone of the Hancock County (Mississippi) Historical Society, who could tell you everything about local history (while slipping in that his ancestor was kin to a 15th century English king); to Susan at the local tourist office, foisting on us Mardi Gras beads (in January!) and advice about where to get the best king cakes; to Dixie, who accosted us in the middle of the street in Natchez and ushered us into her (colonnaded Episcopal) church to see its Tiffany windows (while complaining that her Sunday shoes pinched); to Peter in Bay St. Louis, who saw us looking in the window of his newly rehabilitated house, invited us in and gave us a half hour tour; and to the many others whose warmth and kindness touched us.

And those are the strangers!  Then there are those Southerners who we are fortunate to have come to know and to call friends.  Here a few of them...

Sherene and me at the Historic Savannah Foundation

Joey and me with Gladys, our landlady (first in Savannah and then on Tybee)

Jonathan, his partner Eric and their new dog Io
(Jonathan gives the best architectural tours in Savannah)

Tybee

We said goodbye to the Mississippi Gulf Coast a week and a half ago.  After 10 hours of driving (with an overnight near Tallahassee) we returned to an old haunt: Tybee Island, Georgia.  As we have done for the last two years, we're here for a week or two to chill before hitting the highway home.

Tybee is on the Atlantic, at the mouth of the Savannah River dividing Georgia and South Carolina and about 25 minutes from downtown Savannah.  For a time called Savannah Beach, Tybee is where Savannahians go to swim, loll about on the sand, and party.  It's a little tacky in parts, like Grand Bend or Wasaga Beach back home, but bigger and of course the season lasts a lot longer.  In fact, it's about to get started now, with the onrush of spring and the run-up to St. Patrick's Day (more on this later).

Our place here is an old beach house (what we'd call a cottage).  It's quite secluded and just a short walk from the ocean.

We're in the North Beach area, very close to the iconic Tybee lighthouse.

View of Tybee Lighthouse from our beach house

And at night -- it's still operational

The lighthouse, one of seven original colonial light stations (although largely rebuilt and heightened after the Civil War), is part of a historic complex of buildings that includes the head keeper's house.  The Tybee Island Historical Society, which took possession of the property in 2002 under the National Historic Lighthouse Preservation Act, operates it today as a museum and tourist attraction.

View of Tybee Island from the lighthouse looking south-east

The Fresnel lens greatly amplifies the relatively small (750W) light source

Like most old resorts, Tybee in its heyday (1880s through the 1930s) had some wonderful big hotels, now long gone.

Hotel Tybee (date unknown) -- looks good to me too! 

But in our neighbourhood, part of the Fort Screven National Historic District, there are still lots of buildings from the old resort era and the turn-of-the-century Fort Screven military complex.  Mixed in are more-or-less sympathetic modern beach houses.

A big house, c. 1898, on Officers Row, Fort Screven National Historic District

Another Officers Row house 

A contemporary Tybee beach house

A little old beach house -- for rent!

Back to plantation alley

Our last week in Bay St. Louis we made another trip into Louisiana to see two more of the many plantations along the Mississippi.  First stop was Oak Alley.

Built in the 1830s, Oak Alley takes its name from an avenue of 250 year-old live oak trees leading from the house to the river.  One of the plantation's mysteries is who planted the avenue, which predates the house by about a hundred years, and why.  By the way, live oaks, the most magnificent trees in the South, have a life-span of about 500 years, which makes these trees middle-aged.

View from the second floor gallery down the allee of oaks to the river levee

Second floor gallery at front of house

Side and rear facades of house

Joey dwarfed by one of the oaks in the allee

After lunch we visited nearby Laura plantation.

Like Oak Alley, Laura was a sugar plantation with owners who had their town homes in New Orleans.  As with French settlement along the St. Laurence, and even in the Windsor area of southwestern Ontario, plantations along the Mississippi were laid out in long, narrow lots.  Laura plantation originally extended 18 miles back from the river!

Laura bills itself as a "Creole plantation."  Its main house was completed in 1805 and we learned that, in contrast to "American," Anglo-Saxon houses, which, like Oak Alley, were usually painted white or soft colours, Creole houses were traditionally painted in more vivid hues.  Inside too the woodwork is colourful.

Creole, in case you're wondering, usually denotes cultural, not racial, origin and came to be applied to anyone from Louisiana who was born there.  Most of the old Creole families in fact had white, black and even aboriginal forbears.  Apparently, in contrast to British North America, many of the early European (French and Spanish) immigrants to Louisiana were single men arriving without families, and commingling with slaves, free blacks and native peoples was more common (we see this in New France too).  Before the "Americanization" of Louisiana in the years before the Civil War, it was also not particularly unusual for a plantation community to include the acknowledged illegitimate children of male members of the planter family and slave women.

A restored slave cabin at Laura Planation

The as-yet-unrestored overseer's house at Laura plantation

One of the most interesting things about Creole, as opposed to British/American, plantation culture was the position of women.  Thanks to the French Revolution (remember that Louisiana was a French colony until 1803), there was greater equality of the sexes, women could own property and there was no presumption that the oldest son would take over; rather the job went to the person who was considered the smartest and had the most business sense (since these plantations were above all businesses) -- at Laura these were usually women!  The plantation in fact takes its name from Laura Duparc, the last member of the founding family to own the plantation and whose memoirs of life there have been a huge asset to its interpretation.